


Walk a Mile in My Shoes

by Sincerely_Sierra



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven, American Horror Story: Murder House
Genre: Anxiety, Death, Gen, Hints of suicide and depression, Murder House, Return to Murder House (again), Strong Language, Witchcraft, coven - Freeform, spells
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 00:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17033136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerely_Sierra/pseuds/Sincerely_Sierra
Summary: After Cordelia suspects that Michael isn't actually dead, she sends Madison and Zoe back to Murder House to investigate. Zoe meets Violet, whom is still stricken with grief. In pity and on her own will, Zoe does something that will drastically alter the fate of the coven; she sacrifices herself and gives her life and powers to Violet, who is now able to walk freely, but there's a price to pay. Zoe will die and take Violet's place in Murder House. Forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came out of nowhere. I was very intrigued by it and allowed my imagination to lose control. There will be changes from the "Apocalypse" finale time and plot line, and they will be shown throughout this story. Kyle does not exist, and Mallory was able to resurrect Zoe and Queenie's souls and revive them after killing Michael, without reversing time. Madison is back from hell. Again.  
> I will allow my imagination to tell you the rest. Enjoy!

Madison hates Los Angeles. She hates the traffic and tourists, and she especially hates the dry heat that comes with it. New Orleans isn't much better, but at least there are no tourists or attractions in that shithole she calls home. Sure, the little town parades arise here and there, but nothing any outsiders would come to see. In LA, it's like it's Mardi Gras _every_ fucking day.

She swore to Cordelia that she would never return to Murder House, not even if her fucking nonexistent soul depended on it. At first, Cordelia agreed, saying that there was no need to bother the lost souls there anymore, but two weeks ago, the Supreme became overly-concerned that evil was on the rise and Michael still may be well and alive, even after Mallory's bright idea to run him over several times. It seemed fool-proof. But it's Murder House. Evil never dies there.

And so, Madison is on the first flight to LA. Again. Except this time, she's dragged poor, tired Zoe along with her. Mallory was first choice as a tag-along, but Cordelia backed down when she realized it was too dangerous to put her out there, in case that bastard survived and he's out for her blood. Apparently, Zoe is "just as good."

Bullshit. If anything, she's even more annoying to Madison than Mallory is.

Zoe isn't used to flying. When sleeping doesn't work, she complains the entire way in between fits of silent anxiety, which is odd for her, because she always takes what comes to her. When they finally land, it's bumpy and she swears she's going to just die right here. Madison rolls her eyes at the girl's squeaks.

"Calm down. It's not that serious," Madison says as she zips up her wickedly expensive handbag of which Zoe's Gap backpack can't beat.

"You never know. We could die," Zoe says, flatly, as if secretly wishing for it.

Madison ignores her anxiety and waits for the plane to come to a complete stop. A flight attendant announces that they may get up and grab their things from the overhead compartments. The tin can they call a plane is filled with seat belts coming apart and the compartments flying open and "excuse me"s.

Zoe feels sick. Her stomach hurts from the ride and the overwhelming dread that comes from the anxiety of seeing this supposed "Murder House" for the first time. She feels she shouldn't be so worked up, because Madison has been there and she lived, but this may be another story. They could both have their souls burnt by Michael, and it really sucked for Zoe the first time around.

The passengers finally exit the plane and Zoe breathes in the fresh air as soon as she's off. Madison trails behind her, handbag hanging off the crook of her elbow, as always.

"Cordelia said there's a car waiting for us," the blonde says.

"Where?" Zoe asks, the wave of nausea slowly subsiding now that she's on solid ground. "I thought we could Uber it."

"This is seriously the worst trip ever," Madison groans, waving off Zoe's inquiry.

The two head to the baggage claim first and make sure nothing of theirs was lost. Their two suitcases land with a thud onto the belt and Madison clenches her fist. One of them is filled with sacred spell books and tokens needed for rituals, and Madison wants to scream at whoever is in charge that they've probably fucked up something wicked, but she holds back, but not because she's being polite.

Zoe takes the weight of the bags and follows Madison through the absolutely crowded airport and to passenger pickup, looking around the large swarm of lost people looking for their way home. There's a man standing next to a car with a sign that says "Goode." As if these two witch bitches are her children needing to be babysat.

"That's us," Zoe says.

The man simply nods and helps the girls in with their luggage. The witches sit in the backseat, a safe distance apart, and the driver takes off with caution, hoping not to hit an unsuspecting LA pedestrian. It's hot as hell--but not as bad as actual hell--and it doesn't help that they're wearing their signature black clothes, except Zoe has an advantage of wearing a white blouse beneath her black overalls. Madison has a short dress, but her vagina is still sweating.

Zoe stares out the window at the unfamiliar scenery. It's as bad as she imagined. Some parts aren't that busy, but most are, especially when they ease into the more expensive part of the city, where the infamous house stands. Traffic is horrible and it takes a century to make it out alive.

"So, what are we even doing here?" Zoe asks Madison.

"I told you, Black Widow, we're gonna scope it out and make sure there's no funny business going on that could end us," Madison hisses in a whisper. "I think it's dumb, because Mallory already, ya know. But Cordelia said we have to."

"I don't understand why I had to come. You hate me," Zoe mumbles.

"I don't hate you. I just think it's very difficult to like you."

Like that's a fucking compliment.

The rest of the ride is one of silence. And then the car stops and Zoe looks up. There's Murder House, tall and somewhat dark, despite the sun beaming on the glass windows. A shiver goes up her spine as she dares to get out of the car. The air seems hotter the closer she gets to the house.

"This is it? This gigantic house?" Zoe asks while the driver removes their bags from the trunk.

"Nah, Zoe. This is just for shits and giggles," Madison sarcastically snaps.

It takes strength even her powers can barely touch to not punch Madison straight in her face. Zoe is normally a calm person--the peacemaker, if you will--but with Madison? She just might ruin her pretty face before they leave here.

After the driver is gone, Madison waves her hand and the creaky gates open up, ominously greeting them both. They step up to the mansion and Madison uses the key to open the front door.

"God, it smells old," Zoe mutters when they're fully inside. "And it's cold."

The door slams behind them, causing Zoe to yelp. It sounded too much like a gunshot, and she really can't bear to relive that again. Her poor students. Even Mallory couldn't resurrect all of them.

"You'll have to tell me what to do," Zoe says to Madison. "I don't know any of the. . .residents here."

"I conjured them once. Maybe they'll come out on their own this time," Madison says.

Zoe begins to wander, admiring the fixtures and odd murals. The wood creaks and moans and it gets colder by the minute. Just when Madison is prepared to call out someone to appear, the red ball rolls across the floor. Zoe kneels and reaches out to touch it, and when she's got it, she's suddenly knocked over by what seems to be a creature of some sort.

"Play! Play!" it screams. So it's human. Zoe thinks so, at least.

"Get off!" Zoe cries.

"Beau, no!" Madison scolds, grabbing the abandoned ball and tossing it to the other room.

The boy releases Zoe and chases after it like a dog fetching a bone. Thankfully, Constance hasn't come down to see what's going on. Yet. That bitch loses her shit when it comes to her children, and to be honest, Madison isn't having any of that today.

"What the hell was that?!" Zoe asks, attempting to sit upright.

"One of the spirits. Get up. We have work to do."

+++


	2. Two

They just may be shit out of luck. Constance refuses to talk about Michael any more than saying she never wants to see him again if he somehow survived being murdered by a car, and she disappeared with that little girl--who terrified Zoe--after butting out a cigarette. Vivien is absolutely no help. Maybe that's not her fault. Maybe she doesn't know what really happened to him. Maybe that's a good thing.

Madison can't find Ben for the life of her, nor Tate. They must not want to be seen today, probably because they saw Zoe and now they're afraid. Billie Dean has yet to show her face, and for that, Madison is grateful. She really has an intolerance for that shitty Miss Cleo. This entire trip seems to be for nothing but a dumb vacation. Michael isn't around and it looks like Mallory actually succeeded in ridding the world of his evil presence once and for all. Unless he's out there, somewhere, blended in with the rest of society. Either way, it's useless.

"Let's just get out of here," Madison huffs. "These bitches aren't cooperating."

"But we have to get some info. Cordelia won't sleep unless we do," Zoe says, fidgeting.

"Jeez, take a chill pill. You look like a depressed maniac," the former star jeers with a snort.

Zoe remains quiet, looking at her shoes. She can't shake this feeling of unwanted sadness and remorse lingering in her heart and head. It's been going on for a good couple months, but it's gotten worse since this whole "Michael isn't dead" theory. She will never tell Madison, or anyone at all, that she slept in Cordelia's bed last night when the anxiety became too crippling and she couldn't fathom the monsters she thought were hiding in her room. Even Madison didn't notice she was gone. Typical.

"Zoe? Zoe?" Madison calls, but it sounds faint. "Sabrina!"

Zoe snaps her head at Madison, trying to rid her eyes of the grief so the blonde can't poke fun at her anymore.

"What?"

"Let's go. I seriously doubt he's alive," Madison says. "This was so goddamn stupid. Two whole days gone for nothing! Jesus, I need a drink."

The young witch wants to surrender and follow Madison, making for a wasted trip, but something glues her to the ground. She swears she hears whimpering coming from somewhere, but it could be the lack of decent sleep getting to her. She's hallucinating again. God, she's going to be in a mental hospital before she knows it.

"Witch bitch," Madison whines. "Move it. Or I'll leave you here and you can find a way back to New Orleans tomorrow."

"You hear that?" the younger witch suddenly asks, twirling around.

"Yeah, it's probably Violet. She's always crying. Even though I finally got her and her school shooter boyfriend back together last time. Now come on."

Violet. Madison never mentioned that name. Nobody did, actually. Not Constance, nor Vivien. It's like the cries went unnoticed by the spirits, fading into the back of the house like smoke.

"You go ahead. Call the driver back here. I have to use the bathroom. Wait out there for me, and I'll be out by the time he gets here," Zoe fibs, holding her belly for good measure. Madison quirks a thin eyebrow.

"You wanna use a bathroom and risk your life in a fucking killer house?"

"I'm not scared."

Madison shrugs and takes one of the unused luggage and tells Zoe she can handle the one that contains their spells and books, hurrying out of the house and leaving her sister witch behind without convincing her any more than what she's half-assed tried.

Instead of going to the bathroom--wherever it is--Zoe follows the sobs. They seem to be emitting from everywhere, but they become louder as Zoe walks further into the dark and dank hallways. The entire place reeks of sadness and the grief that may or may not be Zoe's own projecting onto the damp walls.

In the back of the house, there stands an old wooden staircase. Sitting at the very bottom is a girl, no older than sixteen or seventeen, huddled up within herself, shoulders heaving with violent sobs. Her hair is long and brown, almost like Zoe's, covering the young girl's face.

"Hey," Zoe soothingly says, "are you alright?"

The girl looks up with reddened eyes, tears leaking from her big doe eyes full of pain. Just staring at her causes Zoe's heart to do a flip. It's incredibly heartbreaking.

"Who--who are you?" the girl asks, voice cracked and hoarse.

"I'm Zoe. Remember Madison? I'm her. . .friend. What's your name?" Zoe gently inquires.

"Violet." What a pretty name for a pretty girl. "If you wanna know about Michael, I think he's dead. Thankfully. And don't ask about Tate. I don't care what happens to him anymore."

With that, her sobbing resumes. Zoe bites her bottom lip and reaches out to touch Violet. Contrary to popular belief, her hand doesn't pass through. She can feel her. She's cold, like the dead should be, but somehow comforting.

"What do you want from me?" Violet cries.

"I just wanted to see if you're alright. Seems not. But I was curious," Zoe admits. "We're here to see if Michael was still alive. We're done, though."

"Well, I don't know about him. Last I heard, he got ran over by some girl. Thankfully, Constance didn't bring him back here to die," Violet says, wiping her cheeks. "That would be literal hell."

Zoe flinches. She's been to hell. Twice. Except the second time was different. Her soul was burned and she didn't exist for awhile. No heaven or hell. No purgatory. Nothing. She was nothing. It was fucking peaceful, not existing. And then there was this bright light that sucked her in and suddenly, she was well and alive, laying on the floor where she'd died months before, with Mallory hovering over her with a smile.

To this day, she still doesn't know how that was possible, but she's angry. Angry at the world for cursing her. Angry at Mallory for reviving her soul. Angry that her death was shitty and worthless. Both of them.

"I've been to hell," Zoe murmurs. "I guess you're right. Everyone has their own."

"You can leave me now. Like everyone else," she whimpers.

"You seem so upset. I. . .know how that feels. To hurt and hurt and hurt over and over again. My life has been shit for the past six months or so," Zoe says, sitting across from Violet.

Violet looks bitterly at the witch, eyes narrowed in an evil way. But she's not evil. She's completely innocent, a child.

"Yeah, but you're a mortal. You can off yourself and be gone. I thought I was that smart. I took a lot of pills, hoping I'd die. Then, it turns out that I can never truly die. I'm forced to wander this shithole forever. My parents aren't talking. Not even to me. Constance blames me for Tate going insane. My baby brother cries all the time because he will forever be a baby. The others aren't bad, but still. I just sit here and cry, and I'll look outside and wish I was one of them, for once. But I'm not and it sucks ass," Violet sobs.

"You want to be mortal? And live a life like the living?" Zoe asks.

Almost as if she's ashamed of this revelation, Violet nods into her knees. Zoe grabs the girl's freezing hand and strokes her pale knuckles, allowing her to feel what it's like to be alive. The warmth of skin, the pulse, the blood. Violet relaxes at the sensation. And Zoe does, too, but from the chill of the ghost's skin.

"I want that," Violet sniffles. "I want to be warm. But I can't. I can't. It's all my fault."

The pit of Zoe's stomach flutters. She looks back at the foyer, where her bag of tricks and spells remains, and back at Violet.

"Maybe you can be warm. I think I can help," Zoe offers, almost in an unsure whisper, fleeting like the coldness when she pulls away from Violet.

"How? You can't bring me to life." The young spirit becomes disgruntled, fists clenched.

"I think I can. I'm a witch, too."

Violet's jaw falls open, like she's just found a one-way ticket to freedom. Like Zoe is something special. That soothes the older girl's heart, but it doesn't patch up the hole left there. Nothing will. Nothing will bring her fallen students back. Nothing will heal the ache of being abandoned by her mother. Nothing will ease this feeling of loneliness and the tears she produces beneath her covers.

"So--so it's possible? I won't have to roam this nightmare?" Violet asks as a tiny smile works its way onto her pinkish lips.

"I'm going to try. But this is a forbidden ritual and I've just found it. I'm not even allowed to teach it to my students because it's dangerous and there's no definite way to reverse it," Zoe says.

"Please tell me what it is. Please."

Zoe breathes out a sigh and gazes pointedly into Violet's wet eyes. The uncertainty begins to float away.

"When I do this, I will be sacrificing my life and sending it into you. I will die. My powers will be passed onto you. But you will still be Violet. You won't inherit my personality or anything. Just my powers and my life. My breath, my pulse, my heartbeat. I will be nothing, but I want you to have a life. To be honest, I'm sick of living this way. With this spell, I'm going to swap our situations, and we will both be happy," Zoe explains. "You with life. Me with death."

Violet sits in shock. This witch, this woman, is willing to give her life for her. There has to be a catch. Life always has a catch.

As if reading the lost ghost's mind, Zoe says, "With one condition. You will live like me. You will have my powers. You will go with Madison to Louisiana, where we live. But, it's up to you what you do from there. Either stay at the Academy, or make up a reason to leave and start a life of your own. Do not let Madison know you're not me. Understood?"

Violet nods. "Zoe. . .are you sure? You said you can't reverse it."

Zoe stands up and simply says, "I'll get my spell book."

+++


	3. Three

Zoe fooled Madison into thinking she's sick. Unlike any other day, luck has been on Zoe's side. When she went to grab her bag of spells and potions and such, Madison told her that the driver got caught in LA traffic and it'll be another half hour before he can get here to pick them up. Zoe waved her off and told her to wait so she could "finish her bathroom issues."

Madison did indeed leave her. As Zoe brings Violet to a quiet, dark room upstairs that only has a simple window, she sees Madison lighting up a cigarette outside, content with herself for now. This buys Zoe at least fifteen minutes, so she wastes no time in opening up her old book and flipping to a faded page at the back.

"I'm scared. What if it won't work?" Violet asks, hands beginning to tremble. 

Zoe turns away from her book. "Violet, that's part of being a witch. Every spell you do, every potion you create, every ritual you perform, they all have risks. But it's important to take that risk. Okay?"

The small girl nods, fiddling with her hands. Zoe's intestines start to tighten up as she reads over the faded mantra she needs to chant. For a forbidden spell with such results, it's quite simple. More simple than she ever would have thought. Maybe that's why it's so hush-hush. It's too easy. Too easy to perform. Too easy to fuck up. Too easy to succeed at. 

The witch bitch produces a pocketknife, flicks it open, and cuts her right palm enough to bleed a good amount. She grabs Violet's left hand and repeats the action, and Violet hardly flinches. 

"Violet, lay flat on the middle of the floor. Hands at your sides and feet together," Zoe instructs. 

Violet obeys and lays down on the cold floor, like she's laying in a coffin. Oh, god, the irony.

"I'm going to light these candles and place them around you. Don't move."

Zoe lights five red candles she pulls from her bag, arranging them in a perfect circle around trembling Violet. She returns to her spell book and reads the final line. After this, it's all set in stone. She wants to do this. She wants to die so Violet can live.

And so, Zoe lays on the floor, aligned with Violet, their bloody hands an inch apart. 

"I accept my fate for what it is. I surrender my powers to a new vessel. I sacrifice my life and give it a new breath. I accept my fate with gratitude and without regret, for I have chosen this path on my own free will," Zoe says. 

The girls connect their hands, blood mixing in the wounds. Violet closes her eyes, afraid of what's to come, afraid that this won't work and she will be damned forever.

With a deep breath, Zoe snaps her eyes shut and begins the chant in Latin, exactly how she read it. Violet feels the witch's body shaking more with each time she repeats the chant. The candles start to flicker wildly and the room trembles, but neither one dares to open their eyes. 

Before long, Zoe feels a jolt in her chest that spreads throughout her body. She continues with the ritual, reciting the line over and over. Then, a spark of energy hits Violet's dead heart, but she doesn't open her eyes. Not yet. Not while she's half-dead. 

Then everything stops. The candles extinguish in unison and the room goes still, the first signal the spell has worked. Zoe sits up, and the first thing she notices is that her heart isn't beating. The pinkish pigment running across her skin is fading. 

Violet gasps, eyes trailing downwards. Her pale, milky skin turns pink, the way it was when she killed herself. It's warm. She sits perfectly still, and her heart begins to beat. Steady and hard. She's alive. Her body electrifies with newfound life she's not experienced in years. 

"It worked," Violet says. "I'm alive."

"And I'm dead." Zoe smiles. "I'm dead."

The two stand together. Zoe feels how cold she is now. And it's refreshing, to be a cadaver, a ghost of her old self that is no longer a burden. She won't have to suffer thinking she's done wrong, and her coven won't know the loss of her, and Violet is able to live. Everyone wins. It really is fool-proof.

"Thank you," Violet--the real Violet--sobs, throwing her arms around Zoe. 

"No. Thank you," Zoe whispers into her hair. She pulls away and cradles Violet's face. "Please, be careful. Being a witch is dangerous. Only use your powers when you need to. It will take time, but you'll grow into them. Okay?" 

Violet grins and nods. "I will. I promise."

"Remember, you are still Violet. But you need to pretend to be me for now. If you decide you enjoy the coven as Zoe, you can stay. They won't know. If you want to leave and be Violet, that's okay, too. But whatever you do, be safe," Zoe pleads, almost sobbing.

"I won't let you down, Zoe. I promise you," Violet says. "You saved me."

Zoe lets out a shaky laugh and wipes her own ghostly tears. They both step out of the circle and Zoe gathers the candles and puts them and the book into the bag. 

"Switch clothes. You're supposed to be me. Can't tip Madison off," Zoe says as she strips herself of her beloved black and white outfit, shoes and all. 

Violet carefully eases her old clothes off her body, bidding them a silent but excited farewell. She won't miss the faded, tear-stained sweater she's been clinging to, or the leggings that chafe her thighs. She'll miss her old Converse, but she can get those anywhere. A small price to pay for a life.

The two girls exchange clothing and slip into them. The leggings are uncomfortable for Zoe, but nothing she can't handle. Her outfit--especially the overalls--is slightly large on Violet, mostly from the girl not eating right shortly before her death. She must've been sickly when she died.

"You'll be okay," Zoe whispers, carefully stroking Violet's cheek. "You should be going. Madison is probably bitching out. That's all she does, really. You'll get used to it."

Violet laughs a little, for the first time in who knows how long. Her heart beats with it, so it's a little sweeter.

"I guess I'll go," Violet murmurs. "I can't thank you enough. But I'm sorry."

"For?" Zoe hums as she gazes over her spell book, which she will never be able to use again as long as she walks this godforsaken earth. 

"Tate. He's a real ass sometimes. Still pissed about that jerk off of a son he has," Violet says. "After Madison did whatever it was she did to get us back together, it was good for awhile. Then he started on about Michael and how he regrets everything he did, as if he can change it. He can't! After that, he took it out on me. All his fucking anger. Yelling and screaming. Throwing stuff. The whole house was full of noise and things breaking. All the spirits became rattled. I'm just. . .tired. I'm sorry that you'll have to deal with it."

Zoe swallows and slams the suitcase of spells closed, then turns to Violet, a small smile appearing on her lips. 

"It's okay. You don't have to do this anymore. I did this on my own volition. I accepted my fate the way it is. I'm just happy you'll get to live. That's worth everything."

She returns to packing up the suitcase and then gives it to Violet, who takes it with caution. Like it might catch fire. But it doesn't. Zoe smiles and leads Violet downstairs, holding her free hand in her own. Hot and cold and bloodstained, it feels so good. It's soothing.

"Thank you," Violet repeats. "I'll never forget you."

Zoe giggles. "As if I'm going anywhere."

"You're not, but I am. Finally," Violet sighs. 

"Good luck out there, Violet. You'll be just fine," Zoe assures. "As long as you're with Cordelia. Otherwise, you may need a backup plan."

Violet cracks a smile and nods, then she walks towards the door. Her palm, that's somehow healed itself, tingles. Involuntarily, she raises her hand with an odd sensation, and the door swings open. She gapes and Zoe gasps. Her final spell was a true success. So that's where they get "going out with a bang" from. 

"Goodbye. Good luck with these assholes," Violet laughs. 

"I'll need it. Now go on. You've got a life out there."

Expecting to fall right back into the house, Violet leaves with caution. And she actually makes it to the gates, where Madison is butting out yet another cigarette on the sidewalk. She opens the gate and steps out, eyes clenched. When she dares to look, she's still outside. No longer in the house. The sun feels so warm, like the blanket her mom used to drape over her as a child. 

"God, Zoe, what the fuck took so long?" Madison snaps. "Are you fucking constipated?"

"Um, no. I just--I don't know," Violet halfheartedly says with a shrug. 

"Whatever. The driver's almost here. We're staying at a hotel overnight. Cordelia picked it last minute, so it's probably shitty," Madison groans. 

Violet doesn't know who Cordelia is, but she trusts Zoe's words on her. She'll be safe with her, so she must not be so bad. 

"I doubt that," Violet says. 

"Whatever, Sabrina."

"That's not my name," Violet huffs. Neither is Zoe, but Sabrina? Where'd that come from?

The driver pulls up not long after Violet's first bicker with the blonde. They load their bags in and slip into the backseat. As they buckle themselves in, Violet takes one final look at her former hell and sees Zoe standing in the doorway, almost as far as she can get. She's smiling, most of the grief fallen from her face, but she's tired. 

"Oh, god," Madison sneers at Violet--the one sitting by her. "That little bitch won't stop staring at you. Probably because she wishes she was you. It's making me depressed. Driver, you can go now."

They pull off, and Violet watches through the rear windshield as the house of horrors and Zoe fade away into the background. Hot tears prickle in her eyes at the thought of leaving Zoe there, but she grins a little, realizing she is finally free. 

+++


	4. Four

 

Violet and Madison are due to spend a night in a hotel not far away from Murder House but far enough for Violet to abandon most of the dread filling her new soul. Cordelia told Madison that almost every other hotel was booked out of the less expensive rooms, so she had to book the cheapest in a more upscale one. It still cost her a fortune just to have two girls sleep in one bed.

It's not so bad. Of course, Madison thinks it would be better if Zoe weren't here acting clueless and anxious about everything in life. Madison swears there's something about the brunette that feels and looks off. Maybe it's the way she flips from fidgeting to looking mesmerized as if she's never seen a city before. Or maybe it's the fucking black barrette clipped into her hair.

"You didn't bother to do your hair this morning. Where'd that clip come from?" Madison asks Zoe--Violet--as she unclasps her bra and pulls it out of her top.

Violet chews her lip. She forgot to take it out of her hair when she swapped clothes with Zoe back at the house. An hour into her new life and she's already been inattentive to herself.

"I--I had it in my pocket. It was in my face," Violet says.

Madison rolls her eyes and shrugs as she starts pulling clothes and shoes from the suitcase that's barely big enough for both her and Zoe's clothes. Cordelia forced her to pack lightly in order to take it as a carryon and board the plane with it, but she didn't comply too well and it ended up being over the required weight limit. Her Supreme won't be all that thrilled to find out her emergency credit card has an extra charge on it.

"You have lots of clothes. We're only here for a night," Violet says, hoping she's right.

"And?" the blonde says. "Never know if a Hollywood guy could be roaming here. Anyways, you have to look good if you want attention from anyone. Not that shit from Forever 21 you've got on."

"What's wrong with it?" Violet questions as she tugs the strap of her overalls.

"I told you, Sabrina, people here will notice it was bought off the clearance rack. Maybe we should go out tonight. I'll let you borrow one of my dresses," Madison says, faking a pleasantry. "Just once."

Violet twiddles with her thumbs. She's so new to this life thing and she never went out to parties when she was alive as Violet Harmon.

Harmon. Now she realizes she doesn't know Zoe's last name. Just one flaw in this whole charade. Her own damn name.

"Hello? Zoe?" Madison snaps.

"Huh?"

"Are we going out or what?" Madison asks.

Violet halfheartedly shrugs and begins looking through the shared suitcase for her own clothing. There's a tag attached to the handle that says _Madison Montgomery, Zoe Benson_ on the front. She's lucky. This time.

Zoe has a nice sense of style, but it seems black is traditional for a coven. Most of the former witch's clothes are black and white. White blouse and black pants. Black underwear. White bra. Madison has a tight black dress and leather jacket packed in here. Violet hardly ever wore black, contrary to myth of depressed teens.

"Oh, here," Madison says as she tosses a backpack a Violet. It hits her in the stomach and knocks the wind out of her. "You left it in the car. Idiot."

Zoe was right. This girl is a real piece of work.

"Thanks." She doesn't mean it in the slightest.

Madison says she's going to the bathroom to touch up her makeup. Violet takes this time to sit on the bed and rummage through the backpack. There isn't much of anything. Papers, aspirin, tampons, a charger, and a cellphone. Violet pulls it out. She doesn't want to call Zoe dumb, but it's unlocked, leaving all her personal information open.

The wallpaper is of Zoe smiling with a girl not much older than her. She has brunette hair that curls at the end, and bright eyes. Like an angel. Now Violet suspects she might have to be a lesbian to pull this off.

Madison returns, makeup fixed. She grabs the mini dress, but Violet stops her.

"Shouldn't we eat first?" she questions.

"Fine. Room service. We'll just charge it on Cordelia's card," Madison says, and she takes the room service menu, looking over it.

Violet pays no mind to her as she fiddles with the smartphone.

"Ooh. Alcohol," Madison says with a smirk that makes Violet's stomach hurt. Alcohol doesn't sound too good when she's just been revived.

"I'm hungry. What do they have?" Violet asks.

"I know you like mac n cheese, you rat. Want a bowl?" Madison suggests.

"I guess so." Violet hasn't had any real food in along time. Sometimes she would eat for the hell of it when Moira was around, but it wasn't as fulfilling.

While Violet toys around on Zoe's phone, Madison orders their dinner. And tons of alcohol for herself. Violet hesitates and then decides to look through Zoe's photo gallery. Most pictures are like she's staring in a mirror. Some of them are of younger girls, presumably Zoe's students. The ones that survived, anyway.

"Half an hour," Madison says as she hangs up the phone.

Violet nods, not really all that concerned. She's too busy learning Zoe's life through a lens. At the start of the 225 photos, there's a picture of Zoe hugging an older woman with blonde hair. Her mother? Cordelia?

Madison doesn't try to get her attention the entire time they wait for their meal. Violet continues swiping through photos and smiling at the ones that make her warm inside. This is her life now. As Zoe Benson.

Their food is finally brought up to them and Madison abandons her salad and dives straight for the bottle of wine on the tray. Violet watches in amazement as the blonde cracks it open and drinks straight from the bottle in large, intoxicating gulps.

Violet doesn't inquire or judge her. Instead she grabs her scorching bowl of mac n cheese and curls on the bed--the small space Madison is allowing her--and then, she begins to eat. The taste is even richer than she remembers.

By the time Violet has devoured the entire thing, Madison is halfway done knocking back the wine. Good god, is this what Zoe put up with? Violet is surprised she hadn't killed herself way before.

"Zoe?" Madison slurs.

"What?"

"You think Michael is out there?" Her eyes are wide, almost afraid.

"I don't know," Violet replies.

"Well, I don't wanna die. Not yet," Madison says.

Violet chews her lip. She doesn't want to die, either. There's so much to do in life and she doesn't want it to be taken away by her shitty supposed half-brother. In a way, she feels guilty for not trying to stop him, but she didn't want to get burnt and she was too busy dealing with eternal grief that she just didn't care.

Madison polishes off the rest of the bottle and crawls into the bed. She lays flat on her belly and buries her face into the pillow. Violet watches her with careful eyes, making sure she doesn't puke all over the expensive sheets.

"You're pretty, Black Widow," Madison murmurs, before she passes out.

Violet covers the girl with the fluffy comforter and resumes looking through the phone, except this time she opens up Safari and Googles _black widow_.

She skims over a few pages and finds the definition of black widow. Her vagina tingles and her heart skips a beat.

Zoe never told her that she kills anybody she has sex with. That's fucked. Literally.


End file.
